


Look alive, sunshine

by teskodanceparty



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Boy do I hate 1st person pov games but I sure did like writing this, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:26:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27989970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teskodanceparty/pseuds/teskodanceparty
Summary: and you’re realizing that maybe the only person who had your back is yourself, and now, if you're really lucky, a dead guy.
Relationships: Johnny Silverhand & V
Kudos: 45





	Look alive, sunshine

From the start, the moment you open your eyes, Johnny is there.

You wake up in the dump outside of Night City, jolting up off your back when the ghost of a hand shakes you out of your sleep and he’s there. It doesn’t register exactly that he’s speaking right away, the sun is in your eyes and scorching your face, but his mouth is moving so he must be. You knock your hand against your temple, touch metal. Come away sticky with dried blood.

“You with me Samurai?” He says, waves a hand in front of your face that you try to wave away, fall back on your elbows when your balance gives way. “Se habló inglés?” He tries and you finally look him in the eyes, scoffing.

“This has to be hell, right? I have to be dead, there’s no way.” You try, but the sun is stinging the cuts on your face, sparking a migraine behind your left eye, the side of your head with the chip firmly lodged in it where it wasn’t before you woke up throbbing with the ache of it too real for you to believe that.

He follows you after that, quiet, but sharply watching you, matching his pace with your own as you make your way back through the outskirts of the Glen, making your way back to your apartment and hoping like hell Jackie isn’t home when you get there. You know you look like shit, you feel like it, but all you want to do is shower and sleep. By the way the dead rockstar knocking his hip against yours huffs, you figure he isn’t a fan of the idea.

“You do what you want, now, but I need you to understand something.” He grumbles bumping into you and knocking you into a passerby’s shoulder.

“Que más, guapo?” You scoff at him, because you're tired; because you died last night, quick and harsh, thrown out with the garbage, literally, and you’re realizing that maybe you got too comfortable, and the only person who had your back is yourself, and now if you're really lucky, a dead guy.

“Yeah, but at least the dead guy is hot, right?” He says, cocky and right in your ear and you laugh for the first time since you’ve woken up even as the literal ghost of his breath sends a thrill of something down your spine.

**Author's Note:**

> No I’m not playing this game, yes I’m a slut for Keanu Reeves, welcome to the party.


End file.
